Trouble and Worry
by a.lakewood
Summary: Gen, pre-series. Sam gets into a little trouble at school then has a minor freakout about Dean going off on a hunt with their dad.


**Title:** Trouble and Worry  
><strong>Author:<strong> alakewood  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Word<strong>**Count:** ~1400  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Pre-series. Sam gets into a little trouble at school then has a minor freakout about Dean going off on a hunt with their dad.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

By the time Sam started his freshman year, Dean was used to being pegged as the 'bad boy.' His teachers often considered him a troublemaker, or just plain trouble, or (his personal favorite) a rabble-rouser. But Sam was different – he was the _good_ brother, didn't get into or cause trouble.

At least, not until he turned fifteen at the tail-end of Dean's senior year. There was barely a month left before summer break, before graduation. But Dad caught wind of a hunt half a state away and he needed Dean's help.

Much to Sam's disbelief, Dean jumped at the chance to ditch school (ditch Sam, too, though he didn't voice that protest). They argued and argued but Sam just couldn't understand why Dean didn't care. And Dean was sick of trying to explain it.

Within hours of being gone, Dad had gotten two calls on his cell, one from a teacher concerned about Sam's unusual behavior and one from the principal because Sam had lashed out and busted some kid's nose. Dad called the principal back when they stopped for gas, eying the lot of used vehicles across the street. The principal wanted to see Dad right away to discuss Sam and the detention he'd be attending every day after school for a whole week, lucky to not be getting suspended. But Dad explained that he was out of town on business but that Dean would handle it.

Dean was simultaneously proud of Sam (for finally getting into some trouble) and pissed at him (for managing to screw up the hunt for him). And, within an hour, Dad was headed back north towards the job in a new truck while Dean was on his way back to Sam in the Impala.

It was past dusk, street lights slowly coming on, by the time Dean pulled into a space outside their apartment building. He had a moment of absolute panic when he opened the door to a dark, cold living room, no Sam at the coffee table in front of the TV with his homework and every light in the place blazing. Dean's heart pounded in his throat as he all but ran further into the apartment and down the short hall to where the bedroom they shared was.

The door was ajar and Dean could see Sam's empty bed through the gap and it made his stomach drop sickeningly. The panic was back, swirling viciously and tangling up Dean's insides at the thought of Sam gone and probably lost forever.

But there was a quiet sound from behind the door, a hushed shifting of weight and the movement of blankets, and Dean pushed it open wider, knees going weak with the rush of relief of seeing Sam sprawled out on his bed.

"Hey," Dean said, startling even himself with the loudness of his voice.

Sam started, blinking sleepily in Dean's general direction before his eyes cleared and focused. "What are you doing back already?" he yawned.

Dean sat on the edge of the mattress in the curve made by Sam's stomach and bent knees. "Heard you had a pretty rough day at school," he said, dropping a hand to Sam's hair and finger-combing it away from his eyes.

"Mm," Sam agreed, leaning into the touch of Dean's hand and letting his eyes drift closed again. "Didn't want you to go."

"Me and Dad would've been back by the end of next week."

Sam's eyes opened to mere slits. "What if you didn't come back? What if- what if you and Dad go off on some hunt and I'm not there to watch your back and-"

"Hey. Sammy. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I'd never leave you alone – you know that, right?"

Sam's gaze fell to something along the wall and he shrugged under the blankets. "Maybe not on purpose."

"Sam."

Sam got his hands under himself and shoved up to face Dean. "No. You don't know what could happen to you! _I_ don't know what could happen to you. Why can't we just-" He shrugged. "Why can't we just finish school and do something _else_?"

"Because _this_ is our life, this is what we _do._ Back up Dad, help him find the thing that- the thing that killed Mom. Don't you want that? To find the thing that killed her?"

Sam looked at Dean and gave a small shake of his head. "Hasn't it taken enough from us already without taking you or Dad, too? Dean, all we've got is- is each other, and following Dad? The way he just _goes__after_ things so carelessly, we're not even gonna have that. The thing that took Mom is gonna take everything else. And I- I can't watch you turn into Dad because of it."

Dean was still trying to figure out what Sam was trying to say as his brother attempted to disentangle himself from Dean's blankets. He caught Sam's wrist when Sam's last words sunk in. "So, what? _You_ can leave? I can't go save people but you can go to God-knows-where and, do what, Sam?"

"I just, I want to have a normal life, Dean. I want to graduate and go to college and get a job that I don't have to lie to people about. I want to know that when the phone rings I don't have to be afraid of answering it because somebody might be calling to tell me you're _dead._"

Dean dropped Sam's wrist when he tried to pull away again. He knew Sam didn't like moving around all the time, hated leaving the new friends he was making and constantly being the new kid everywhere they went, but he didn't know there was more to it. He didn't know that Sam was afraid for him. But it made sense because Dean felt the same way about Sam whenever his little brother went along on the more dangerous hunts.

Sam crawled into his own bed and burrowed under his blankets, back turned to Dean.

Dean pushed off his bed and crossed the room to Sam. "What we do, it's important, Sam. You know that. We're _saving__people._"

Sam sat abruptly, damp eyes trained on Dean. "Who's gonna save you?"

Dean reached out for him, fingers curling over Sam's shoulder. "I don't need saving, Sammy. I'm right here." And Sam was in his arms a moment later, thin arms wrapped tight around his neck. "Jesus Christ, Sam, where's this coming from?"

Sam shook his head and buried his face in Dean's throat. "I'm sorry, but-" His arms tightened around Dean's neck.

Dean held his brother close and couldn't remember the last time they'd hugged. "It's okay, Sam," he said against Sam's hair.

"But what if-" Sam gulped.

Dean leaned back far enough to see Sam's face, pushing his tangled hair from his eyes. "No 'what ifs.' Sam, we-"

"But-"

"Hey." He put a palm to Sam's cheek and looked him right in the eye. "We've been doing this for a while and Dad's been doing it for longer. We _know_ what we're doing and nothing's gonna happen to us. Not if we're together."

"Yeah, and you _left._"

"Sammy," Dean sighed, pressing his forehead against Sam's. "It's not like me and Dad were going after a pack of weres or something. It was just a haunting, maybe a poltergeist. We'd've been fine."

Sam shook his head again, hair brushing against Dean's jaw. "But you don't _know._"

Dean dropped his head to Sam's shoulder in exasperation feeling like they were just going in circles. "No, Sam, we can never know for sure, but Dad's trained us the best he can." He sat up straight and patted Sam's chest. "Look, let's just...talk about this later. You've had a long day and so have I. You eat anything for dinner?"

"No."

Dean slapped Sam's knee and stood. "Come on, then. I'll cook you some mac and cheese."

After a moment Sam nodded and made to follow Dean, but Dean knew that the conversation wasn't over. Sam didn't get like that often but when he did, he wasn't likely to keep quiet for long. At least, hopefully, Dean would have time to figure out how to assure Sam that everything would be okay. Because it would be – it had to be.


End file.
